


Midnight Lives

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Closeted Character, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Ray's different people in the day and at night. It's just that during the day he has secrets he has to keep, and the night is for him and Gerard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Lives

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for no_tags, for the prompt secret high school boyfriends.

Ray isn’t planning on being in the closet forever. Plans like that always fail, generally in ways that spell out ruin for the individual. He’s not going to be the next Ted Haggard. Not that the forced outing would be the worst part of being him. The religion and the Republican leaning and frankly the choice in men, it all leaves something to be desired. 

It’s not out of shame that he’s quiet about his preferences. Rather it’s a sense of self-preservation. For all that he loves his brothers, and is grateful for the things they taught him, Mark especially has a very specifically defined sense of right and wrong. In his mind fags are wrong, synonyms of wrong being disgusting, corrupt, and evil. As far as Ray knows, Mark genuinely believes beating a fag sometimes changes their minds about choosing to be queer. Sharing a room with him post declaration would only be painful, emotionally and physically. Ray’ll come out in college, when he can get away from people that will actively make his life difficult for it.

Gerard’s closeted too. His reason is different, in some ways romantic. Gerard is staying straight for his sake. Everyone that’s ever met Gerard knows from experience that he is physically incapable of shutting the fuck up. A lesser known fact is that at least half the reason he talks at length is because Frank and Mikey provoke him. The instant Gerard comes out Frank and Mikey will start asking questions. At the very least it’ll be what he’s done with a guy, when was his first time with a guy, and is there any guy he likes right now? The answers being everything, with Ray, seven months ago, with Ray, and Ray, respectively. And Gerard will say all of it, because he’s completely shit at not answering questions. So instead he says none of it.

It’s another evening of saying nothing at the Way house. Gerard’s got the middle cushion of the couch, and for a while Ray’s thigh is comfortably pressed against his boyfriend’s. Then he comes back from the bathroom and Mikey has usurped his spot. Ray can’t make a stink. After all, it’s not like there’s some legitimate reason he has to sit beside Gerard.

Ray leaves when Frank leaves. He has to. He has homework to write or procrastinate about, and dinner to eat, and prime time viewing to attend. But he’ll come back. Probably not until midnight. Later, depending. There’s no set time, he just has to wait for Gerard to text him to let him know Mikey and Mr and Mrs Way are asleep. Nor is it every night. They usually only manage about three rendezvous a week between group sleepovers and Mikey having an insomniac bout and Ray getting into a jam session with Mark in the ugly mattress pad soundproofed basement, but they both keep their phones on all night, just in case.

Tonight the text comes at quarter to one. It’s a short bike ride to Gerard’s. His mom would probably shit a brick if she knew he was biking around the city in the middle of the night, but contrary to the occasional accusation, Ray isn’t stupid. He knows he’s not invincible. He just also knows the honest -as compared to hysteric- likelihood of him getting in trouble is low. The bars aren’t at last call yet, so there are less crazies, and the weather is nice so he’s not going to catch a cold in just his open denim jacket. The waxing moon lights the streets as well as the flickering street lights do, and he’s got reflectors anyway. Anyway, it’s better than the alternative, which is _not_ going.

There are no lights on when he parks his bike inside the barely used shed, but Ray knows Gerard will be sitting in the living room. The back door is unlocked, like it always is when Ray sends back a _coming over_ text. He walks in, leaving the door slightly askew behind him so the alarm system doesn’t beep in confirmation that the door is closed. The kitchen table is directly in front of him, Ray skirts around it deftly. A decade of sleepovers have made Ray capable of navigating the Way house in the dark. He can even get to the side of Mr and Mrs Way’s bed; Mikey used to have night terrors and Gerard would always refuse to leave his brother’s side once he’d waken them all up with his screaming.

Gerard’s sitting in the dark but he leaps up when he enters the room. Ray would like to have some witty comment. Hell, to manage a cooed ‘honey I’m home’ would be a feat. Instead, like always, he and Gerard surge to each other with two days worth of pent up affectionate lust. It’s impossible to say something witty with his tongue down Gerard’s throat.

“I love you,” is what he’s finally able to say when they break apart. It’s important they say it now. When they can’t say it during the day it bottles up, just like all the other component feelings.

“I love you too,” Gerard says back, pushing a greasy lank of hair behind his ear. Unlike Ray’s, Gerard’s usually stays tucked. Behind black flannel patterned with skull and crossbones Gerard’s already hard. 

Ray wants to grope him. He gets a sudden sense-memory of how Gerard’s cock fits in his hand and wants it, bad, but he refrains for the moment. Instead he crosses to the old fashioned cluttered coat rack so he can carefully take his jacket off. Half his patches are pinned on, the others are held by a shitty whip-stitch. It’s hard to say which are more precariously attached. It’s the best article of clothing he owns. He wants it to last forever, and that’s not gonna happen if he tosses it to the floor every time he takes it off.

“I’ve been thinking all night about sucking dick.”

Ray smirks. “Anyone’s in particular?”

Gerard ignores him and drops to his knees. He crawls across the carpet towards him, elastic waistband pulling low. Ray knows the second he touches his boyfriend he’ll get a static shock, but it’ll be worth it if he gets his dick sucked.

“I want you to fuck my face. Don’t hold back. See if you can make me puke.” 

Ray snickers and Gerard scowls at him. Hoping to avoid a pouty boyfriend Ray explains “Gerard, I just think it’s sort of funny you think that’s hot.”

“What?”

“Dude, unless you’re Brazilian, vomit isn’t a turn on. For everyone else it would be a highly traumatizing event.”

“Oh, you’re really talking semantics when your cock could be in my throat?” 

“I kinda don’t want a blowjob now.”

“What? Really?” Gerard seems astonished. Ray doesn’t see how talking about puke was supposed to turn him on, and he says as much. “Well, you didn’t bike all the way here to not have sex.”

“True.”

“So do you want me to fuck you then?”

“We could try me fucking you?”

Gerard shrugs. “We could. But you’d probably just end up fingering me again.”

“Yeah.” 

Ray hasn’t been able to fuck Gerard more than a handful of times. Gerard gets extremely turned on by being fingered, enough so that he’s almost instantly ready to pop. Ray likes to think it’s a compliment to his technique as much as it’s a sex drive of teenagers thing. And he likes seeing Gerard and squirm on his fingers. But when he comes he tenses and then he’s too tight and sore for Ray to fuck him. It’s maddening. It’s only when they’re both stoned and overly relaxed that Gerard can hold off long enough for Ray to get his dick in. 

“You got any pot?” he asks hopefully.

“Dry, sorry. Mikey and Pete used the last gram. Apparently it was all stems and seeds anyway.”

Ray really wants to fuck Gerard. It’s kind of an ever present need. But Gerard does look really good on his knees, looks like he desperately wants someone in his mouth. Realistically, a guaranteed blowjob is better than the slight chance of fucking that turns into yet again rubbing his dick between Gerard’s tightly closed thighs.

“Seriously, do _not_ traumatize me for life,” he demands, undoing his zipper.

The static shock is worth the mouth that engulfs him a moment after. Gerard never seems to have a gag reflex, he just slides all the way down. Almost better is the way he lets Ray pull his hair. He might feel guilty about it after and give him a head massage, but in the moment he just wants his fingers deeply tangled. Gerard says it’s a feedback system, physical praise since neither of them can moan the way the want to.

Moaning tends to be more of an issue when they’re focusing on Gerard’s side of the sex equation. Ray’s better at blowjobs when the recipient is laying down, so Gerard is half sitting on the couch, neck barely supported by the armrest. The first time Ray touches his balls Gerard grabs for a pillow and presses it against his face so he doesn’t make too much noise. Ray’s not as good at sucking cock as Gerard is, but you wouldn’t guess it from his boyfriend’s reactions.

He doesn’t move it from his face until he’s panting after coming. Ray swallows because it’s easier than getting a kleenex, then rearranges himself to sit crosslegged between Gerard’s spread legs.

“You ever notice you forget how good orgasms are until you have another one?” 

Ray laughs. “I’m glad you enjoyed.” 

“Well yeah. Who doesn’t enjoy oral? But seriously,” he continues in a contemplative voice “do you think it’s a survival instinct? Because if we really remembered, we wouldn’t want to do anything else except orgasm, and then the dinosaur would sneak up behind us and eat us while we’re distracted.” 

“Dinosaur? You a creationist then?” 

“Fine. Mammoth then.”

He shrugs, offering “maybe it’s a gift from god, or whoever. People are cool, and he-she-it-they want us to get a pleasant surprise every time instead of just feeling jaded about pleasure.”

“Yeah, maybe. Sleep on the floor?”

“Sleep on the floor,” Ray confirms, standing up and reaching for his jeans. There’s not a lot of room on the couch, not nearly enough to sleep comfortably together. It also adds a layer of deniability in the rare chance that someone will come across them. If they’re only sleeping beside each other, it says less than sharing a couch would. Even if they’re snuggling, it’s not like people can control what their bodies do when they’re sleeping. 

Ray grabs a few of the throw cushions and Gerard goes for the spare blankets folded on the rocking chair in the corner. As always, he’s the bigger spoon. Gerard likes being held.

Their cell phone alarms go off at 7:20. It’s just enough time for a foul breathed morning kiss before Ray needs to take off. Mr Way gets up at 7:30. 

The janitor doesn’t unlock the front doors until eight, so Ray bikes to Dunkin Dounuts. He buys a coffee and a few honey glazed. Not just because he’s a growing boy that needs a healthy breakfast of sugar and caffeine, or because he needs to have proof of purchase to sit down. The meal also serves to make his mouth taste better. It’s french vanilla with blueberry flavouring; it leaves a strong sweet aftertaste. That or gum are Ray’s only real options. If he tries to brush his teeth in the public washroom he looks homeless. He only did it twice; the second time an employee escorted him out.

Despite the small fortune of money he's been giving them in five dollar increments, Dunkin Donuts is his best morning option. Ray can’t go home after he leaves Gerard’s. The Toros are up and about by now, just like Mr Way. He’s not a neglected child. They will notice he’s gone, they’ll just think he just went to school early. Under that neat alibi coming back to shower and brush his teeth and comb his hair wouldn’t make sense. 

Similarly, he can’t change. Frank respects the privacy of no man. He’ll just as soon pull out Ray or Mikey’s binder for looseleaf for a scrawled DnD scene as his own. Having a full change of clothes in his backpack would get questions. Ray doesn’t even have gym this semester to blame it on. 

For a while they had a complex system of hiding clothes at Gerard’s to have for future use. Really it’s just a lot easier to wear the same shirt two days in a row. It’s not like it’s not their habit anyway. Gerard and Mikey can go a month in the same shirt. Frank changes his shirt, but he’s worn the same cardigan three weeks now. Ray’s normal stance is you wear the same pair of jeans until there’s a visible reason not to, like bloodstains or Pepsi stains. He doesn’t really have a problem with not changing.

In half an hour he’ll bike to school. He’ll be one of the first students in the school, and he’ll nod a good morning to the lone secretary that’s there. He’ll be able to claim a spot on one of the couches for a forty five minute nap, sitting up with headphones nestled firmly in his ears. And when he sees Gerard first period he won’t say ‘good morning love’. He’ll say ‘hey’, or ‘sup’, because that’s the way life is right now. But it won’t be that way forever. One day, they’ll get daytime.


End file.
